


Ulterior Motives

by gabapple



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Bad Ending, M/M, This is what happens when you keep secrets and don't communicate, priti don't read this, shade from the cutting room floor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 07:18:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14666084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabapple/pseuds/gabapple
Summary: No one knows why Viktor Nikiforov left Russia and his successful skating career to coach a nobody in Hasetsu... pity? Publicity stunt? Or perhaps something else, entirely unexpected...





	Ulterior Motives

When the text message comes, it’s not as much a surprise as he expected.   
It’s actually kind of a relief.

After years of waiting and agonizing, sure that he was lurking around every dark corner, Viktor will finally get the closure he’s been longing for. It’s just his luck that it would happen only after he finally left Russia- something he’s refused to do outside of competition -and manage to start living again, but... at least he had this time to get his affairs in order.

Viktor Nikiforov has not one, but two heirs to his crown; protégés that will compete against each other, and drive each other to greatness. One, Yuri Plisetsky, his surrogate brother. Young and capable, he is the true pride of Russia and the next in line. The other, Yuuri Katsuki, Viktor’s lover, an exceptionally skilled underdog and perfect rival.

There’s no doubt in his mind; when he is gone, the two will honor his name and fight for gold. His legacy will continue, that much is assured. His time in Hasetsu has been worth it, just as he’d hoped. And though he hates to leave the man that quietly sits beside him, browsing his own phone, completely unaware of what’s just happened…

Viktor’s only real regret is that he knows how Yuuri will look back on this and everything else over the past several months and wonder: how much of this was real?

Viktor angles his head and kisses Yuuri’s temple, which draws a distracted smile from him, then another, wider one. His hair smells like the onsen. It’s warm and clean and all things good. Hasetsu has been a place of healing, but he can’t stay.

 

The wolves are coming for him, and he must never let Yuuri know.

 

Yuuri is so magnificent on the ice that it’s difficult to tear his gaze away for even a moment. The quadruple flip brings Viktor to tears, and the final pose, hand outstretched, nearly shatters his resolve. At the Kiss & Cry, Yuuri is distant. He knows something is wrong. All of Barcelona has been off and Viktor has almost told him the truth a dozen times.

But nothing he could say would explain it all; it’s too complicated, too wrapped up in fragile nuances and mistakes. Telling Yuuri would only cause more harm, more pain. Put him in danger. None of it would save Viktor.

It’s better to lie.

Twisting the ring on his finger, he debates while they wait for the scores, watching Yuuri’s leg bounce with nervous energy. Then he’s broken Viktor’s world record. Surpassed him, at least in that way. Confirmed that he is just as Viktor thought.

A successor.

The world will not forget Viktor Nikiforov when he’s gone; he will live on through Yuuri.

Viktor hugs him, whispering what he hopes Yuuri wants to hear, what he thinks he needs. He sees Yuuri as a worthy adversary. An equal. He’s proud of him. He means it enough to say that he’s coming back to face him, head on.

He won’t be, but he needs Yuuri to believe it... at least for now.

The look on Yuuri’s face is worth more than all the gold medals and world records that Viktor’s ever earned.

 

It breaks his heart to leave him, slipping away while Yuuri is being interviewed just ten minutes later.

 

Yakov knows immediately that he's lying. The years that Viktor has put into perfecting his masks are nothing to the years of his coach's critical eye. He knows his Vitya too well. 

Nevertheless, Viktor takes advantage of the others' shock to divert Yakov's attention to his supposed plans again. He needs it on record that his intentions were to honor his promise to Yuuri, even if it's anything but the truth.

When Yura brings Yuuri into the conversation, asking after him, echoing his own, dark concern, his smile grows strained. No. It's not even an issue. Yuuri will skate on in his absence.

Retirement isn't an option. It only hurts to leave him. 

He realizes, then, watching the teenager's face before him, emotions split between fury and concern, that he hates to leave him, too. His young brother. He's grown so much over the past few months. Become so strong, so confident. 

It's a betrayal to leave him even more than it is to leave Yuuri, and Viktor hates himself for it. He knows Yura hoped that he’d be the one to stay, to keep him anchored.

Viktor hopes that the past few months have helped to prepare him to say goodbye, to move on without him. He hopes for this, and that Yura will understand something of his love and regret as he pulls him into an uncharacteristically close embrace. Time is too short for the walls of bravado.

Yura promises that he’ll win gold, force Viktor’s champion from the top spot on the podium. He assumes that Viktor’s tears- the few that brush against the teenager’s neck -are for the sake of some petty rivalry.

 

When Yuri Plisetsky goes on to the ice, Viktor is nowhere to be found. 

 

Strangely, it’s the crowd that Viktor hears more than the music as he walks away. He’s drowned it out all these years to focus on his performance, but now listens only to the echoing applause. It follows him down the hallways and through the other exhibitor-only areas, and is only muffled background noise when he reaches the men’s restroom with the out of order sign blocking the entrance. Viktor checks his phone one last time, then steps around it.

It isn’t where he would have preferred to die, but he hasn’t been given much choice. At least he’s afforded privacy by way of the lock on the other side of the door, which offers a small degree of comfort. 

It’s just Viktor and the wolf, after all these years.

Any banter or hope for negotiation, what little there is, ceases the moment the other man sees the ring around Viktor’s finger. He barely has a chance to register the words  _ traitor _ and  _ betrayal _ before the blade finds its mark, which leaves him gasping and sputtering on the cold, tile floor. 

It isn’t dignified. His eyes well with tears and there’s a roaring in his ears that sound like the crowd again, screaming- his name? Yuuri’s? Yura’s? -he can’t tell. But it doesn’t matter.

No amount of wealth can save him now. No gold medals can bring him back. No world records can change this course. 

He realizes too late that he might have liked to skate with Yuuri. Maybe not in actual competition, but in an exhibition. An ice dance. The pair of them. He can almost hear  _ Stammi Vicino _ now, and the step sequence begins to unfold for him like the others. It’s halted with an involuntary shudder, and his thoughts shift to home.

Saint Petersburg. Cold and beautiful… where Yura waits with him for Makkachin and, yes, his Yuuri… his Yuuri who is coming to stay.

He’s never been happier.

 

It’s over before he can fully process it, snuffed from this earth. 

 

It takes nearly an hour for the body to be found. A well-placed sign is good at deterring most people, but it’s Christophe Giacometti that pushes it aside and strides in anyway, undeterred. They had plans to go to dinner, and Viktor didn’t answer his phone. Typical, but he wasn’t going to let him get away with that  _ again. _ Not on a night when he was already feeling so terrible. Yuuri’s worry over his missing coach only made it ten times worse. 

When he sees the blood on the sink, then the body lying in a dark pool of it, he knows that it’s too late. He knows, but it doesn’t stop him from checking, yelling for help and then crouching at his side, where he touches his friend’s cheek. 

His skin is cool, the life gone.

 

The true meaning of heartbreak has changed.

 

“The ISU has no official statement at this time, but is working with local law enforcement to investigate the death of Viktor Nikiforov. Details are largely being withheld due to the sensitive nature of the situation, but many in attendance of the Grand Prix Final for figure skating were held for questioning tonight, which has many asking if this has less to do with a doping-related scandal and more to do with the Russian mafia. 

“Yakov Feltsman, former coach of the recently deceased, vehemently denies his skater’s involvement in either, and was increasingly agitated with any line of questioning regarding the past several months, during which Nikiforov displayed behavior that could be described as more than a little erratic. 

“Nevertheless, the RSU representative, declined to comment either way, saying that nothing could be confirmed or denied at this time. 

“Eye-witness reports at the scene saw blood on both Christophe Giacometti and Yuuri Katsuki, the former a friend and the latter the student of Nikiforov, while young Yuri Plisetsky, a former rinkmate to Nikiforov, has been on the hunt for a supposed ‘murderer’ at the venue.

“Whether the death will be ruled homicide, suicide, or something else entirely, it is no less tragic. Nikiforov had just announced to the ISU that he was planning to return to the competition after his several month sabbatical… but this may simply point fingers at the rivals that he skated with and against, all these years.

“Our hearts go out to his family, his coach, and all those who loved him… we have truly lost a great legend in figure skating today. Fortunately, his legacy is left to two accomplished skaters… Yuri Plisetsky, gold medal champion, and Yuuri Katsuki, silver, both of whom broke world records here tonight. He lives on through them.” 

 

Just as intended.

**Author's Note:**

> Please take solace in knowing that I don't consider any of this canon. This was based on one of the many ideas that I pitched during the airing of Yuri on Ice (around episode 6) while Mamo and I were formulating the outline for NLA. This was written in the style of my high school collection of short stories, 'Tales of Dried Blood.' Younger me would be so proud. ;)


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